had been thus far completed, on the day when we arrived and took our
places on the stage erected for us, overlooking the entrance to the
corral. Close beneath us a group of tame elephants sent by the temples
and the chiefs to assist in securing the wild ones, were picketed in the
shade, and lazily fanning themselves with leaves. Three distinct herds,
whose united numbers were variously represented at from forty to fifty
elephants, were enclosed, and were at that moment concealed in the
jungle within a short distance of the stockade. Not a sound was
permitted to be made, each person spoke to his neighbour in whispers,
and such was the silence observed by the multitude of the watchers at
their posts, that occasionally we could hear the rustling of the
branches as some of the elephants stripped off a leaf.
Suddenly the signal was made, and the stillness of the forest was broken
by the shouts of the guard, the rolling of the drums and tom-toms, and
the discharge of muskets; and beginning at the most distant side of the
area, the elephants were urged forward at a rapid pace towards the
entrance into the corral.
The watchers along the line kept silence only till the herd had passed
them, and then joining the cry in their rear they drove them onward with
redoubled shouts and noises. The tumult increased as the terrified rout
drew near, swelling now on one side now on the other, as the herd in
their panic dashed from point to point in their endeavours to force the
line, but they were instantly driven back by screams, muskets, and
drums.
At length the breaking of the branches and the crackling of the
brushwood announced their close approach, and the leader bursting from
the jungle rushed wildly forward to within twenty yards of the entrance
followed by the rest of the herd. Another moment and they would have
plunged into the open gate, when suddenly they wheeled round, re-entered
the forest, and in spite of the hunters resumed their original position.
The chief headman came forward and accounted for the freak by saying
that a wild pig[1], an animal which the elephants are said to dislike,
had started out of the cover and run across the leader, who would
otherwise have held on direct for the corral; and intimated that as the
herd was now in the highest pitch of excitement: and it was at all times
much more difficult to effect a successful capture by daylight than by
night when the fires and flambeaux act with double effect, it was the
wish of the hunters to defer their final effort till the evening, when
the darkness would greatly aid their exertions.
[Footnote 1: Fire, the sound of a horn, and the grunting of a boar are
the three things which the Greeks, in the middle ages, believed the
elephant specially to dislike:
[Greek:
Pyr de ptoeitai kai krion kerasphoron,
Kai tôn moniôn tên boên tên athroan.]
--PHILE, _Expositio de Elephante_, 1. 177.]
After sunset the scene exhibited was of extraordinary interest; the low
fires, which had apparently only smouldered in the sunlight, assumed
their ruddy glow amidst the darkness, and threw their tinge over the
groups collected round them; while the smoke rose in eddies through the
rich foliage of the trees. The crowds of spectators maintained a
profound silence, and not a sound was perceptible beyond the hum of an
insect. On a sudden the stillness was broken by the distant roll of a
drum, followed by a discharge of musketry. This was the signal for the
renewed assault, and the hunters entered the circle with shouts and
clamour; dry leaves and sticks were flung upon the watch-fires till they
blazed aloft, and formed a line of flame on every side, except in the
direction of the corral, which was studiously kept dark; and thither the
terrified elephants betook themselves, followed by the yells and racket
of their pursuers.
The elephants approached at a rapid pace, trampling down the brushwood
and crushing the dry branches; the leader emerged in front of the
corral, paused for an instant, stared wildly round, and then rushed
headlong through the open gate, followed by the rest of the herd.
Instantly, as if by magic, the entire circuit of the corral, which up to
this moment had been kept in profound darkness, blazed with thousands of
lights, every hunter on the instant that the elephants entered, rushing
forward to the stockade with a torch kindled at the nearest watch-fire.
The elephants first dashed to the very extremity of the enclosure, and
being brought up by the fence, retreated to regain the gate, but found
it closed. Their terror was sublime: they hurried round the corral at a
rapid pace, but saw it now girt by fire on every side; they attempted to
force the stockade, but were driven back by the guards with spears and
flambeaux; and on whichever side they approached they were repulsed with
shouts and volleys of musketry. Collecting into one group, they would
pause for a moment in apparent bewilderment, then burst off in another
direction, as if it had suddenly occurred to them to try some point
which they had before overlooked; but again baffled, they slowly
returned to their forlorn resting-place in the centre of the corral.
The attraction of this strange scene was not confined to the spectators;
it extended to the tame elephants which were stationed outside. At the
first approach of the flying herd they evinced the utmost interest. Two
in particular which were picketed near the front were intensely excited,
and continued tossing their heads, pawing the ground, and starting as
the noise drew near. At length, when the grand rush into the corral took
place, one of them fairly burst from her fastenings and rushed towards
the herd, levelling a tree of considerable size which obstructed her
passage.[1]
[Footnote 1: The other elephant, a fine tusker, which belonged to
Dehigam Ratamahatmeya, continued in extreme excitement throughout all
the subsequent operations of the capture, and at last, after attempting
to break its way into the corral, shaking the bars with its forehead and
tusks, it went off in a state of frenzy into the jungle. A few days
after the Aratchy went in search of it with a female decoy, and watching
its approach, sprang fairly on the infuriated beast, with a pair of
sharp hooks in his hands, which he pressed into tender parts in front of
the shoulder, and thus held the elephant firmly till chains were passed
over its legs, and it permitted itself to be led quietly away.]
For upwards of an hour the elephants continued to traverse the corral
and assail the palisade with unabated energy, trumpeting and screaming
with rage after each disappointment. Again and again they attempted to
force the gate, as if aware, by experience, that it ought to afford an
exit as it had already served as an entrance, but they shrank back
stunned and bewildered. By degrees their efforts became less and less
frequent. Single ones rushed excitedly here and there, returning
sullenly to their companions after each effort; and at last the whole
herd, stupified and exhausted, formed themselves into a single group,
drawn up in a circle with the young in the centre, and stood motionless
under the dark shade of the trees in the middle of the corral.
Preparations were now made to keep watch during the night, the guard was
reinforced around the enclosure, and wood heaped on the fires to keep up
a high flame till sunrise.
Three herds had been originally entrapped by the beaters outside; but
with characteristic instinct they had each kept clear of the other,
taking up different stations in the space invested by the watchers. When
the final drive took place one herd only had entered the enclosure, the
other two keeping behind; and as the gate had to be instantly shut on
the first division, the last were unavoidably excluded and remained
concealed in the jungle. To prevent their escape, the watchers were
ordered to their former stations, the fires were replenished; and all
precautions having been taken, we returned to pass the night in our
bungalows by the river.
CHAP. VI.
THE ELEPHANT.
* * * * *
_The Captives._
As our sleeping-place was not above two hundred yards from the corral,
we were frequently awakened by the din of the multitude who were
bivouacking in the forest, by the merriment round the watch-fires, and
now and then by the shouts with which the guards repulsed some sudden
charge of the elephants in attempts to force the stockade. But at
daybreak, on going down to the corral, we found all still and vigilant.
The fires were allowed to die out as the sun rose, and the watchers who
had been relieved were sleeping near the great fence, the enclosure on
all sides being surrounded by crowds of men and boys with spears or
white peeled wands about ten feet long, whilst the elephants within were
huddled together in a compact group, no longer turbulent and restless,
but exhausted and calm, and utterly subdued by apprehension and
amazement at all that had been passing around them.
Nine only had been as yet entrapped[1], of which three were very large,
and two were little creatures but a few months old. One of the large
ones was a "rogue" and being unassociated with the rest of the herd, he
was not admitted to their circle, although permitted to stand near them.
[Footnote 1: In some of the elephant hunts conducted in the southern
provinces of Ceylon by the earlier British Governors, as many as 170 and
200 elephants were secured in a single corral, of which a portion only
were taken out for the public service, and the rest shot, the motive
being to rid the neighbourhood of them, and thus protect the crops from
destruction. In the present instance, the object being to secure only as
many as were required for the Government stud, it was not sought to
entrap more than could conveniently be attended to and trained after
capture.]
Meanwhile, preparations were making outside to conduct the tame
elephants into the corral, in order to secure the captives. Noosed ropes
were in readiness; and far apart from all stood a party of the out-caste
Rodiyas, the only tribe who will touch a dead carcase, to whom,
therefore, the duty is assigned of preparing the fine flexible rope for
noosing, which is made from the fresh hides of the deer and the buffalo.
At length, the bars which secured the entrance to the corral were
cautiously withdrawn, and two trained elephants passed stealthily in,
each ridden by its mahout (or _ponnekella_, as the keeper is termed in
Ceylon), and one attendant; and, carrying a strong collar, formed by
coils of rope made from coco-nut fibre, from which hung on either side
cords of elk's hide, prepared with a ready noose. Along with these, and
concealed behind them, the headman of the "_cooroowe_," or noosers,
crept in, eager to secure the honour of taking the first elephant, a
distinction which this class jealously contests with the mahouts of the
chiefs and temples. He was a wiry little man, nearly seventy years old,
who had served in the same capacity under the Kandyan king, and wore two
silver bangles, which had been conferred on him in testimony of his
prowess. He was accompanied by his son, named Ranghanie, equally
renowned for his courage and dexterity.
On this occasion ten tame elephants were in attendance; two were the
property of an adjoining temple (one of which had been caught but the
year before, yet it was now ready to assist in capturing others), four
belonged to the neighbouring chiefs, and the rest, including the two
which first entered the corral, were part of the Government stud. Of the
latter, one was of prodigious age, having been in the service of the
Dutch and English Governments in succession for upwards of a century.[1]
The other, called by her keeper "Siribeddi," was about fifty years old,
and distinguished for gentleness and docility. She was a most
accomplished decoy, and evinced the utmost relish for the sport. Having
entered the corral noiselessly, carrying a mahout on her shoulders with
the headman of the noosers seated behind him, she moved slowly along
with a sly composure and an assumed air of easy indifference; sauntering
leisurely in the direction of the captives, and halting now and then to
pluck a bunch of grass or a few leaves as she passed. As she approached
the herd, they put themselves in motion to meet her, and the leader,
having advanced in front and passed his trunk gently over her head,
turned and paced slowly back to his dejected companions. Siribeddi
followed with the same listless step, and drew herself up close behind
him, thus affording the nooser an opportunity to stoop under her and
slip the noose over the hind foot of the wild one. The latter instantly
perceived his danger, shook off the rope, and turned to attack the man.
He would have suffered for his temerity had not Siribeddi protected him
by raising her trunk and driving the assailant into the midst of the
herd, when the old man, being slightly wounded, was helped out of the
corral, and his son, Ranghanie, took his place.
[Footnote 1: This elephant is since dead; she grew infirm and diseased,
and died at Colombo in 1848. Her skeleton is now in the Museum of the
Natural History Society at Belfast.]
The herd again collected in a circle, with their heads towards the
centre. The largest male was singled out, and two tame ones pushed
boldly in, one on either side of him, till the three stood nearly
abreast. He made no resistance, but betrayed his uneasiness by shifting
restlessly from foot to foot. Ranghanie now crept up, and, holding the
rope open with both hands (its other extremity being made fast to
Siribeddi's collar), and watching the instant when the wild elephant
lifted its hind-foot, succeeded in passing the noose over its leg, drew
it close, and fled to the rear. The two tame elephants instantly fell
back, Siribeddi stretched the rope to its full length, and, whilst she
dragged out the captive, her companion placed himself between her and
the herd to prevent any interference.
In order to tie him to a tree he had to be drawn backwards some twenty
or thirty yards, making furious resistance, bellowing in terror,
plunging on all sides, and crushing the smaller timber, which bent like
reeds beneath his clumsy struggles. Siribeddi drew him steadily after
her, and wound the rope round the proper tree, holding it all the time
at its full tension, and stepping cautiously across it when, in order to
give it a second turn, it was necessary to pass between the tree and the
elephant. With a coil round the stem, however, it was beyond her
strength to haul the prisoner close up, which was, nevertheless,
necessary in order to make him perfectly fast; but the second tame one,
perceiving the difficulty, returned from the herd, confronted the
struggling prisoner, pushed him shoulder to shoulder, and head to head,
forcing him backwards, whilst at every step Siribeddi hauled in the
slackened rope till she brought him fairly up to the foot of the tree,
where he was made fast by the cooroowe people. A second noose was then
passed over the other hind-leg, and secured like the first, both legs
being afterwards hobbled together by ropes made from the fibre of the
kitool or jaggery palm, which, being more flexible than that of the
coco-nut, occasions less formidable ulcerations. The two decoys then
ranged themselves, as before, abreast of the prisoner on either side,
thus enabling Ranghanie to stoop under them and noose the two fore-feet
as he had already done the hind; and these ropes being made fast to a
tree in front, the capture was complete, and the tame elephants and
keepers withdrew to repeat the operation on another of the herd.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
As long as the tame ones stood beside him the poor animal remained
comparatively calm and almost passive under his distress, but the moment
they moved off, and he was left utterly alone, he made the most
surprising efforts to set himself free and rejoin his companions. He
felt the ropes with his trunk and tried to untie the numerous knots; he
drew backwards to liberate his fore-legs, then leaned forward to
extricate the hind ones, till every branch of the tall tree vibrated
with his struggles. He screamed in anguish, with his proboscis raised
high in the air, then falling on his side he laid his head to the
ground, first his cheek and then his brow, and pressed down his
doubled-in trunk as though he would force it into the earth; then
suddenly rising he balanced himself on his forehead and forelegs,
holding his hind-feet fairly off the ground. This scene of distress
continued some hours, with occasional pauses of apparent stupor, after
which the struggle was from time to time renewed convulsively, and as if
by some sudden impulse; but at last the vain strife subsided, and the
poor animal remained perfectly motionless, the image of exhaustion and
despair.
Meanwhile Ranghanie presented himself in front of the governor's stage
to claim the accustomed largesse for tying the first elephant. He was
rewarded by a shower of rupees, and retired to resume his perilous
duties in the corral.
The rest of the herd were now in a state of pitiable dejection, and
pressed closely together as if under a sense of common misfortune. For
the most part they stood at rest in a compact body, fretful and uneasy.
At intervals one more impatient than the rest would move out a few steps
to reconnoitre; the others would follow at first slowly, then at a
quicker pace, and at last the whole herd would rush off furiously to
renew the often-baffled attempt to storm the stockade.
There was a strange combination of the sublime and the ridiculous in
these abortive onsets; the appearance of prodigious power in their
ponderous limbs, coupled with the almost ludicrous shuffle of their
clumsy gait, and the fury of their apparently resistless charge,
converted in an instant into timid retreat. They rushed madly down the
enclosure, their backs arched, their tails extended, their ears spread,
and their trunks raised high above their heads, trumpeting and uttering
shrill screams, yet when one step further would have dashed the opposing
fence into fragments, they stopped short on a few white rods being
pointed at them through the paling[1]; and, on catching the derisive
shouts of the crowd, they turned in utter discomfiture, and after an
objectless circle or two through the corral, they paced slowly back to
their melancholy halting place in the shade.
[Footnote 1: The fact of the elephant exhibiting timidity, on having a
long rod pointed towards him, was known to the Romans; and PLINY,
quoting from the annals of PISO, relates, that in order to inculcate
contempt for want of courage in the elephant, they were introduced into
the circus during the triumph of METELLUS, after the conquest of the
Carthaginians in Sicily, and _driven round the area by workmen holding
blunted spears_,--"Ab operariis hastas præpilatas habentibus, per circum
totam actos."--Lib. viii. c. 6.]
The crowd, chiefly comprised of young men and boys, exhibited
astonishing nerve and composure at such moments, rushing up to the point
towards which the elephants charged, pointing their wands at their
trunks, and keeping up the continual cry of _whoop! whoop!_ which
invariably turned them to flight.
The second victim singled out from the herd was secured in the same
manner as the first. It was a female. The tame ones forced themselves in
on either side as before, cutting her off from her companions, whilst
Ranghanie stooped under them and attached the fatal noose, and Siribeddi
dragged her out amidst unavailing struggles, when she was made fast by
each leg to the nearest group of strong trees. When the noose was placed
upon her fore-foot, she seized it with her trunk, and succeeded in
carrying it to her mouth, where she would speedily have severed it had
not a tame elephant interfered, and placing his foot on the rope pressed
it downwards out of her jaws. The individuals who acted as leaders in
the successive charges on the palisades were always those selected by
the noosers, and the operation of tying each, from the first approaches
of the decoys, till the captive was left alone by the tree, occupied on
an average somewhat less than three-quarters of an hour.
It is strange that in these encounters the wild elephants made no
attempt to attack or dislodge the mahouts or the cooroowes, who rode on
the tame ones. They moved in the very midst of the herd, any individual
in which could in a moment have pulled the riders from their seats; but
no effort was made to molest them.[1]
[Footnote 1: "In a corral, to be on a tame elephant, seems to insure
perfect immunity from the attacks of the wild ones. I once saw the old
chief Mollegodde ride in amongst a herd of wild elephants, on a small
elephant; so small that the Adigar's head was on a level the back of the
wild animals: I felt very nervous, but he rode right in among them, and
received not the slightest molestation."--_Letter from_ MAJOR SKINNER.]
[Illustration]
As one after another their leaders wore entrapped and forced away from
them, the remainder of the group evinced increased emotion and
excitement; but whatever may have been their sympathy for their lost
companions, their alarm seemed to prevent them at first from following
them to the trees to which they had been tied. In passing them
afterwards they sometimes stopped, mutually entwined their trunks,
lapped them round each other's limbs and neck, and exhibited the most
touching distress at their detention, but made no attempt to disturb the
cords that bound them.
[Illustration]
The variety of disposition in the herd as evidenced by difference of
demeanour was very remarkable: some submitted with comparatively little
resistance; whilst others in their fury dashed themselves on the ground
with a force sufficient to destroy any weaker animal. They vented their
rage upon every tree and plant within reach; if small enough to be torn
down, they levelled them with their trunks, and stripping them of their
leaves and branches, they tossed them wildly over their heads on all
sides. Some in their struggles made no sound, whilst others bellowed and
trumpeted furiously, then uttered short convulsive screams, and at last,
exhausted and hopeless, gave vent to their anguish in low and piteous
moanings. Some, after a few violent efforts of this kind, lay motionless
on the ground, with no other indication of suffering than the tears
which suffused their eyes and flowed incessantly. Others in all the
vigour of their rage exhibited the most surprising contortions; and to
us who had been accustomed to associate with the unwieldy bulk of the
elephant the idea that he must of necessity be stiff and inflexible, the
attitudes into which they forced themselves were almost incredible. I
saw one lie with the cheek pressed to the earth, and the fore-legs
stretched in front, whilst the body was twisted round till the hind-legs
extended in the opposite direction.
It was astonishing that their trunks were not wounded by the violence
with which they flung them on all sides. One twisted his proboscis into
such fantastic shapes, that it resembled the writhings of a gigantic
worm; he coiled it and uncoiled it with restless rapidity, curling it up
like a watch-spring, and suddenly unfolding it again to its full length.
Another, which lay otherwise motionless in all the stupor of hopeless
anguish, slowly beat the ground with the extremity of his trunk, as a
man in despair beats his knee with the palm of his hand.
They displayed an amount of sensitiveness and delicacy of touch in the
foot, which was very remarkable in a limb of such clumsy dimensions and
protected by so thick a covering. The noosers could always force them to
lift it from the ground by the gentlest touch of a leaf or twig,
apparently applied so as to tickle; but the imposition of the rope was
instantaneously perceived, and if it could not be reached by the trunk
the other foot was applied to feel its position, and if possible remove
it before the noose could be drawn tight.